


Lovelorne: John’s Turn

by Iwantthatcoat



Series: The Green Interpreter [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Lucifer (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22554844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwantthatcoat/pseuds/Iwantthatcoat
Summary: Sherlock has managed to ditch John somehow, so John returns to Caritas to find out just where Sherlock ran off to. But that requires a little something, musical.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: The Green Interpreter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622860
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

“Is Sherlock here?”

Lorne paused for a moment to size up the man in front of him before answering. This part was always difficult. Sure Sherlock’s thoughts had gushed out like a shaken soda bottle with a few Mentos dropped in, but that didn’t give him the right to let John Watson in on any of it. And clearly Sherlock had wandered off on his own again, sans partner. 

“Just missed him. Do you keep missing him? Or maybe you still... ain't missing him at all…since he’s been gone.. away.”

“They told me about you.”

“Which they would that be?”

“Homeless network. Said Sherlock would either be here or at some place called Lux.”

“Oh, word of warning, John. I wouldn’t go to Lux if I were you. Or me. Or anyone else, for that matter. I’m not saying Lucifer Morningstar isn’t a man of wealth and taste. And the Misunderstood English Guy in a Designer Suit Trope does it for me too, believe me, and when you throw in some musical talent I’m gone-Daddy-gone. It’s just...I love Luci, but his version of Let’s Make a Deal doesn’t always pan out too well. People get zonked.” Lorne poured a scotch for John and a Sea Breeze for himself and pushed it forward. “In more ways than one.”

Lorne downed his drink a bit too fast, grateful it was John in front of him and not Sherlock—that endless stream of pop culture references was a dead giveaway. Even mentioning Lucifer’s name made him nervous. No, more like terrified. 

He had been into Lux once, and only once. Maze had wanted some clarification on this whole dealing-with-humans thing, and he was a bit of an expert at that, so he decided to stop by her place, so to speak, for a friendly chat. Bartender to bartender. Lucifer was singing at the piano. Normally, Lorne wouldn’t read someone without permission— rude— but Lucifer locked eyes with him the second he entered Lux, and it wasn’t exactly permission, more like a dare. “Go on, then,” was the unspoken message, and suddenly “Piano Man” got even sadder. Then Lorne turned a whiter shade of green. He saw his Devil Face, plain as day, but that was the least horrifying thing he saw. Bloodied wings and the permeating sulfur and random flashes of death and destruction assaulted him from all sides with no central narrative to even attempt to make sense of it all. He backed out the way he came in, never taking his eyes off the man...no, not a man... at the piano. Maze would have to wait. Maybe a long time. Maybe forever. But Lucifer Morningstar continued to look right at him, flashing between forms, sometimes with a full set of glowing-white wings, and sometimes with red, blistering skin, and sometimes with both. And though Lorne knew not one speck of it had been Lucifer’s choice, he was who he was. Time to exit stage left before he was pursued by... anything, really. It couldn’t be good. 

Of course, this was John in front of him, eyeing the scotch dubiously. Just John. John wouldn't pick up on any of that. John was just trying to find Sherlock, who was trying to find some missing girl. 

“I’d tell you where he was if I knew, you know.”

John frowned. “You did tell him where to look, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly. Just a few images which I shared. That’s my thing. He still had to do his thing. So, you have to do it, Dr Watson. The Thing. Your choice. It can be short and sweet. I can give you a pint and you can sing “God Save The Queen”. It’d do just fine. That is, if I have a pint here. Not exactly a beer crowd.”

John stared at him for a moment and sniffed. “Just because I was an army man… You think I didn’t listen to the same songs as everyone else? More, even. I cared about the words you know. The stories behind them. I—“

“No. No, I was just…” _trying to give you a quick out. So I don’t have to hear more than I need to to help you along._ He already knew far too much about Sherlock’s feelings for John, and he didn’t relish knowing the other half of it. Either it was returned and they’d waste half their lives playing “should I risk it” or it wasn’t, and damn if he hadn’t already understood Sherlock Holmes well enough to feel that on a deeper level than he ever would have chosen to. Empathy was a bitch. No, just, sing a few bars of anything, John, and I’ll gladly send you on your way. “I was just trying to spare you the embarrassment of baring a bit of your soul. Sherly and I go way back. He knows the deal. But for someone new it can be a bit uncomfortable.”

John nodded and glanced at the stage. “Do I have to go up there?”

“No. Here is fine. Just a verse is... fine. I can throw something on at random. ‘What’s New Pussycat?’ ‘It’s Not Unusual?” Lorne glanced over at the jukebox. He saw “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”/“Angie” and barely concealed a snicker.

“No, I’m...fine.” John downed the scotch.

“I am just a poor boy  
Though my story's seldom told  
I have squandered my resistance  
For a pocket full of mumbles, such are promises  
All lies and jests  
Still a man hears what he wants to hear  
And disregards the rest”

For a moment, he was taken by the beauty of John’s soft acapella. His voice was simple and lovely. Honest, and surprisingly unguarded. He saw a nightclub, and a young woman in a sequined dress, and the backs of two dark-haired men in nearly identical suits looking out over the stage where she walked past, holding a tray. And that was all. No deeper insight into John Watson, save for the fact that he was heading into a world of trouble. And a tiny flash of something suggesting he was ready for it. 

“He’s at Lux.”


	2. Chapter 2

He had just told John not to go there, hadn’t he. Now he could walk it back, explain the reason for the trepidation, or say nothing at all. He weighed the options with all the caution of Numfar weighing a baby glornd on Pylea. John eventually simply asked, “Why is it I wouldn't want to go there? What’s so bad about this Lucifer? He can’t be that dangerous to people going into his club, or else he wouldn't have one anymore. Police would shut it down. Unless he is working with the police, I suppose.”

“He is, actually. He’s a bit of a detective. Unofficial.”

“Sherlock will be annoyed he stole his schtick, then. If he’s working with the police, how bad can he be? Oh, this is the LAPD. Nevermind.”

Lorne gave a weak smile. “LAPD’s reputation aside, let’s just say even if he is on the side of Los Angeles, he is far from an angel.” He sliced a grapefruit in preparation for another drink and started to squeeze it into a glass.

“This coming from a green man with horns running a bar full of demons.”

“Hey! Watch with the prejudices! Most demons are...well… The point is he can look at you and tell what you want. What you really, really want. And...give it to you. For a favor. He collects them. Favors.”

“Doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Yeah, nothing bad happens from a little quid pro quo, right? It’s not as if you have to take him up on the offer, either. Not that anyone hasn’t.”

“I have everything I could possibly want.”

Lorne placed his elbows on the bar and leaned forward, chin in his hands. “Oh do you, now?”

“You saw my life when I sang, right? I went through hell to get here. And now I have the greatest man I have ever known back in my life. Something I never thought I’d get, or deserved. And now, I can finally say not only do I have him, but I deserve him. And I even believe it. What else could I want more than that?”

Touching. Naive, but touching. And you only think you’ve been through hell, buddy. But no, Lorne hadn’t seen anything of importance. Sherlock and Lucifer talking. John entering Lux. So. That was that. No point in even dissuading him now. They’d wind up there and hopefully they’d find whoever they needed to find and move on. London was calling. As for Lorne, he wasn’t going in there. No way, no how. Definitely not. Never.

***

Maze greeted Lorne at the door.

“Humans don’t make sense,” she said.

“Tell me about it,” he replied. 

How in the world had he ended up back here again? Must be the humans. Always getting in over their non-removable heads. He looked around the place anxiously. John had found a home at the bar and was also looking around the place anxiously.

“Boss playing gumshoe with LA’s finest tonight?” 

Maze frowned. “You mean is he out on a _case_ with _Chloe_?”

“Yeah. I mean, good for him, that he is working with the department. Enjoying his new hobby. Good.” 

Maze frowned. “Yeah. Good. Bad. Whatever. No. He isn’t. He’s back in Hell. Taking care of a few things, I guess.”

Lorne wasn’t even the least bit concerned about how obviously relieved he must have looked.

“Look, Krevlornswath. Lorne. I need… some help with this whole friendship thing. You have some human friends, right?”

“Well. Sure. More like had. They don’t exactly pop in much. Doesn’t mean I understood them though. You just roll with it, baby. They aren’t all that different from demonkind when it comes down to it. They just, well humans, they tend to talk a bit more and, punch a bit less.”

“Too bad. Punching is much easier than talking. I tried talking.”

“Well, I….okay, I can see why you might think so. And, what is it you tried to talk about?”

“Sex.”

“Great. That’s just great. And who was it you tried to talk about sex with?”

“Linda.”

“Okay. And... Linda is your therapist, right? It’s good to talk about sex with Linda.”

“Yeah. I thought so too. So. Ready?”

“Ready? For what?”

“To talk about sex with Linda.”

“Maze, I seem to have misunderstood where the italics of that sentence went. You don’t want to _talk about sex_ with Linda. You want to talk about _sex with Linda_.”

“That’s what I said. But the thing is, I didn’t have sex with Linda. And I don’t think that I want to. Which is weird. I mean I made it pretty clear I was interested at first, but Linda didn’t seem to be— some client-therapist thing, she’s big on sex with your therapist being wrong— or maybe I’m a friend and she doesn’t have sex with friends, which doesn’t make much sense, but as I said, humans don’t make any sense. The thing is, I don’t think I really wanted that anyway. Which is—“

“Weird.”

“Weird, yeah. But I realised it was just that I’ve been cutting down on the aggression— to fit in better, since I’m not in hell anymore— and what I really needed was just something that would make me feel more…alive. And I’ve found something that does that. Even better than sex…and I know that’s saying a lot. I’ve found my purpose. My calling.”

Lorne was afraid to hear what was occupying Maze’s time. He suspected it wasn’t knitting.

Maze smiled proudly. “I’m a bounty hunter!”


End file.
